


How we met

by New_day



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blind Date, Blood Magic, Falling In Love, Intimacy, M/M, Murder Family, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Canon Compliant, POV First Person, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16647704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New_day/pseuds/New_day
Summary: In a world similar to ours in some aspects but very different in others, Will and Hannibal meet in an unusual way and become intimate very soon.





	How we met

I'm sure you've heard about us. Who hasn't? The murder husbands, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter and their daughter, Abigail. Everybody is curious about us, everybody reads, writes and talks about us.

I bet you do, too, but I'm positive there's one thing you don't know, because nobody does but us.

To be honest, I think it's a bit embarrassing, though my daughter keeps telling me it isn't. “Everybody does it nowadays,” she always says. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I think she's probably right, so I might as well tell you. It's about how we met, Hannibal and I. You probably think it had something to do with my job, that I found out he was the Ripper when I was working for the FBI, and that's how I came to meet him. Well, I did find out, but I wasn't with the FBI anymore at that point. Our meeting was...private.

Okay, whatever, I'll tell you. We met on a dating app.

***

When I was sitting in the bar, waiting for my date, I was really nervous. I wondered if the whole idea was just crazy and if I should leave. But I didn't, because I thought: I need this. I've denied myself this for too long, and it's about time. After everything that had happened during the previous months, I really felt miserable, and I hoped that this date would cheer me up. You probably won't understand this if you are human, but we just have to do it once in a while. Even if one happens to be an antisocial, reclusive person, like me. If we don't do it, we get irritated, unstable, sometimes even clinically depressed. And when something really bad happens, like the things that had happened to me, it's the best you can do to feel stable and happy again. But you need the right partner, that's essential, of course.

I still couldn't believe that I was really trying to find this partner on a dating app. What has become of me, I thought. I remembered that when a former colleague, Beverly, had told me about the app months ago, I was just amused and a bit bewildered. I hadn't known that an app for our kind even existed, and I was thinking: Well, maybe it's the right thing for some of us, but it certainly isn't for me.

And now, a few months later, I was in this bar, waiting for a stranger I had met on this app. He seemed to be a nice, stable person, that's why I had chosen him, but I hadn't seen a picture of him and I didn't know his name. I didn't know where he lived or what he did for a living, and of course he didn't know about me and my job with the FBI. We both preferred to remain anonymous. If there was one thing I had learned in the previous months, it was that I needed to be careful. Even if people pretend to be open-minded these days, there are still many humans who hate us. I wouldn't be the first one to be attacked or even killed by an alleged 'date'.

So I was sitting alone at my table in the bar, looking down uncomfortably, wondering what he would look like and thinking what a weird thing a blind date was. I feared that my date would recognize me the moment he laid eyes on me. Of course he would find out about me soon anyway, but I still hoped he wouldn't know at first glance. Thanks to Freddie Lounds' articles, a lot of people knew me, and I was aware that there were many of our kind who were holding a grudge against me because of my job with the FBI. I really hoped he wouldn't be one of them.

And then I suddenly heard somebody say “Good evening,” in a soft, accented voice. I looked up, and there he was, standing at my table. I knew immediately that he was my date. I could tell he was one of us (we can tell by instinct, though most humans can't), and I was really relieved, first because he didn't seem to recognize me and secondly...well, because I had hoped he would be good-looking, and he was. I know looks shouldn't matter for what I had in mind, but...they do.

He smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. He was well-dressed, in a three piece suit that was a bit too colorful and a bit too flamboyant and would have looked silly on everybody else, but, oddly, looked good on him. His smile was open and friendly, with a sparkle in his maroon eyes. He will be good for me, I remember thinking. A date with a friendly, balanced person like him would surely give me some peace of mind, which I desperately needed at the moment.

Even though I already knew, I asked him if he was my date, hoping that he wouldn't notice how nervous I was, and he nodded. 

“I suppose I am. I'm delighted to meet you. My name is Hannibal.”

I thought that 'Hannibal' was quite an unusual name, but on the other hand, many of our kind have unusual names, which they often chose for themselves after their Becoming. I'm the exception, of course, because unlike most of us, I've never had a Becoming, but have always been what I am now.

“I- I'm glad to meet you as well, Hannibal. I'm Will,” I stuttered, cursing myself for my own self-consciousness. I'm really out of practice, I thought. It had been years since my last date.

Hannibal was still smiling at me, but when he looked around the room, he was frowning slightly and said: “However, I must admit that I don't particularly like this place.”

“Me neither,” I agreed. I had to admit that the bar wasn't exactly welcoming, and Hannibal seemed completely out of place in his expensive suit. I had only chosen this place because it wasn't very popular and well-frequented, which minimized the risk of being recognized. At the table next to mine, however, there were two women who were constantly whispering to each other and casting glances at me once in a while. I was starting to wonder if they were talking about me and had recognized me, which made me feel quite uncomfortable.

“Well,” Hannibal said, “I presume the food they serve here will hardly be to our liking either. What do you think about leaving, Will? I live nearby.”

I couldn't help but chuckle. “You don't waste any time, do you?”

“No, I don't,” Hannibal answered, chuckling softly as well. “As they say, time is precious, even for us.”

***

We were driving to Hannibal's place in his Bentley, and I wasn't surprised at his fancy car, on the contrary. The car fitted his general appearance, his expensive clothes, the way he talked, everything about him. Hannibal was obviously wealthy, like many of us are. I am, of course, the exception again.

While we were driving, I gave Hannibal a glance. He didn't appear nervous at all, but calm and at ease. “For how long have you- been one of us?” I asked, unsure if this might be too intimate a question. But he didn't seem bothered.

“Always,” he answered calmly. “I was born like this.”

I could hardly believe my ears. Apart from myself, my father and my grandmother, I had only met a handful of people who had been like us since birth.

“Really?” I asked disbelievingly. “Me too. But- I've hardly ever met someone like us. I thought we were almost extinct.”

“We are, Will,” Hannibal agreed. “The humans saw to that. When I was merely a boy, I lost my whole family to them and their ignorance.” I noticed his hands clutching the steering wheel before relaxing again and for a moment, I could sense his sadness and grief.

I cleared my throat self-consciously. “I'm- very sorry about that, Hannibal,” I said. “Luckily, times have changed.”

Hannibal cast me a glance. “Do you really think so, Will?”

I thought of Jack Crawford, my co-workers and everything that had happened in the last months and didn't answer.

***

We arrived at Hannibal's house- a place that, like his car, reflected its owner's wealth and style and, as I noticed immediately, also a certain affinity to darkness that many of our kind share. There are quite a lot of us who enjoy things that are uncommon and a bit gloomy, and Hannibal's house, the furniture and the decoration made it abundantly clear that he was one of them. Well, I thought, it seems like there's more to Hannibal than I would have guessed at first glance.

We were in his living room, standing opposite each other, just a few inches apart. Getting more and more nervous, I sipped at the drink Hannibal had offered me, tasting the sweetness and the flavor, licking my lips.

“It's delicious,” I said, and it really was.

Hannibal smiled appreciatively. “Thank you. It's homemade, my own brand.”

I frowned, and I know that I should have followed up on this, but to be honest, I had other things on my mind at that moment. And besides, I wasn't with the FBI anymore. 

Instead, I asked, trying to start a casual conversation: “What are you doing for a living?”

Hannibal smiled again and answered: “I'm a psychiatrist.”

I stared at him, wondering if he was joking. “I've never heard about one of us becoming a psychiatrist.”

“I'm the only one, at least in the U.S.,” Hannibal said with pride, and I realized that this was really not a joke.

“Is that why you agreed to a date, even though I wrote you I'm unstable and depressed at the moment? Do you want to psychoanalyze me like one of your patients?” I asked him suspiciously.

Hannibal shook his head. “Not at all, Will. I merely think that you are an interesting person, and I was looking forward to our personal encounter immensely. I'm convinced that this evening will be a pleasant experience for both of us.”

I felt embarrassed at his words, but also excited. I was curious what it would be like, how it would feel to know this man intimately.

Without an answer, I put my glass on the living room table, and Hannibal did the same. Slowly, I moved towards him, looking him in the eye, and took his hand. Hannibal was holding my gaze, his piercing eyes suddenly rather red than maroon, and all I could think was: _Finally_.

***

I hesitated for a moment. I knew I was taking a risk, but the craving was just too strong, I couldn't resist it any longer. It had been too long, I couldn't go without it anymore.

I wondered if Hannibal was taking a risk as well, if he also had secrets he'd rather keep to himself, like most of us did. I bet he does, I thought. Though he seemed friendly and open at first glance, there was definitely something mysterious and secretive about him.

But I knew he wanted it as much as I did, this was why he had invited me to his place, after all. We had already discussed this when we had met online, and now that I was so close to Hannibal, I could see in his eyes that he wished it to happen.

I raised Hannibal's hand to my mouth, with the palm upward. After gently stroking his palm with my thumb, I buried my fangs deep in Hannibal's wrist. I could taste his blood on my tongue, warm and sweet, and moaned with pleasure.

Hannibal growled softly, obviously enjoying himself, not bothered by the pain. Slowly, he took my other hand, and when I looked up while still biting him, he was gazing at me intently. As I finally felt his fangs pierce the skin at my wrist until I was starting to bleed, I couldn't help but gasp with pain and excitement.

And when we were drinking each other's blood, I experienced it, eventually, again.

The understanding, the deep intellectual and emotional connection we can only share with someone of our own kind. 

If you're human, you probably won't understand. Drinking each other's blood is the most intimate thing we can do, it's much more intimate than sex (which we enjoy as much as humans do). By sharing our blood, we See our partner and let him See us, every part of us, the best and the worst. It's scary, especially for an antisocial loner like me, but we all crave this, this beautiful, indescribable feeling of being Seen for what we are, even if it's only for a few moments. 

***

_A castle, old, mysterious, like from a fairy tale. An ancient mansion that has seen many things throughout the centuries, things good and bad._

_A woman, dark-haired, beautiful, smiling, talking to me in Italian. My mother._

_A well-dressed aristocrat, dignified and severe, scolding me for a minor wrongdoing. My father._

_A little girl in a white dress, running through the castle, carefree, biting me playfully with her little fangs. My sister._

_And then-_

_it ends._

_Everything ends._

_The world as I know it._

_My mother, turned to dust by a stake through her heart._

_My father, stripped naked and tied to a pole in the yard. And then the sun rises, and his screams..._

_I will never forget how my father screamed when he was burned alive._

_My sister...I have to save her, she is all I have now._

_But I can't. I am only a child._

_How could they do that, how could they do that to a little girl?_

_These people are not just evil, they are also superstitious._

_It's the 20th century, but they still live in the middle ages. Or even before._

_Vampire children taste like lamb, they say. Especially little girls. And eating a vampire will give you strength and make you invincible._

_Well, they were wrong about that._

_I was the only one who escaped, and I proved them wrong. It took some time, I had to grow up, I had to become strong, and I had to find them._

_But then there was a reckoning._

_I killed every single one of them._

_But I didn't stop there._

_Deaths, so many deaths, humans I killed without regrets._

_And...I not only drink their blood, I eat them. Because it makes me feel strong, superior._

_And I display them, because I want everybody to know that they were pigs and got what they deserved._

_Pigs who I made more beautiful in death than they have ever been in life._

_They have no idea who I am._

_Everybody likes me._

_I'm Dr Lecter, the famous psychiatrist, handsome, cultivated, intelligent, charming._

_And- a vampire, which is part of my attraction._

_I was one of the first vampires in the U.S. to become a doctor and the very first who became a psychiatrist._

_By now, I'm well-known in psychiatric circles._

_However, even though the vampires' situation has improved in the last decades, there are still many humans who are suspicious of us._

_How could one trust these creatures, they argue, who feed on human blood? They will always be a danger to humanity, no matter how much they might deny it._

_Most humans think like that, whether they admit it or not, but with the fear there comes also a strange attraction._

_There are many humans who are drawn to vampires, and it makes sense._

_Of course we seem attractive to humans, this is what enables us to use humans as donors and thus ensure our survival._

_Vampirologists have different theories about the exact cause of this attraction. While some argue that it might be a matter of telepathy, I tend to agree with the ones who believe it to be connected to hormones and smell._

_Be that as it may, there's another reason why humans are drawn to us._

_It's the danger, the knowledge that we could easily kill them, even if we choose not to. There are many humans who delight in the risk of playing with their lives._

_Most vampires could have more willing donors than they actually require, and I'm undoubtedly one of them._

_But this bores me._

_These pathetic humans, crawling at my feet, asking me to be taken, are hardly more than a nuisance to me._

_They are like puppets on a string, malleable, easy to manipulate. I enjoy playing games with them and use them to feed if I need to, but what I really enjoy is something else._

_I love to kill humans, to suck out every last drop of their blood, until they are paler than any vampire could ever be, and to cook and eat their organs._

_I love to arrange their corpses, to elevate these unimportant creatures to works of art._

_This is what I love the most, but of course nobody knows, neither humans nor other vampires._

_All they see is the polite, friendly, slightly eccentric European psychiatrist who happens to be a vampire._

_Who many of the Baltimore high society want to be friends with, to prove that they are modern and progressive enough to be friends with a vampire._

_Nobody knows who I am._

_Of course there were quite a few who I let See me, while Seeing them._

_A delightful experience, without a doubt, which was unfortunately always destined to end in my partners' death._

_Letting them See me meant that I couldn't let them live._

_Nobody knew who I am. Until now. Until I let you See me._

***

When I realized who Hannibal was, I tried to pull away. Of course I couldn't let this man See me, as much as I craved to be Seen.

But Hannibal wouldn't let go. He held my arm in a tight grip and drank from me greedily. I knew it was already too late anyway. We had drunk each other's blood, Hannibal had Seen me, like I had Seen him. And Seeing Hannibal had made me realize that he had already known who I was when we met on the app. He had observed me, hacked my phone and used the app to get to know me. He feared that I might still catch him, even though I wasn't with the FBI anymore, and thought about killing me. And he was curious about me.

When Hannibal finally loosened his grip, I felt dizzy and exhausted by the loss of blood and shaken by the things I had just Seen. I stared at Hannibal in horror. Who would have thought that the nice, polite man I had met on a dating app was a monster, someone who confirmed the worst fears humans have regarding vampires. 

Still, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain because it was over, this unique experience of becoming one with another vampire, of really Seeing him for what he was and being Seen by him at the same time. Of course I had had this experience with other vampires before, but it had never been like this, so intense and...breathtaking. I was shocked, both by Hannibal's story and by everything he had done to humans and other vampires, which says something, because at that point, there wasn't much anymore that could shock me. 

However, I hadn't just Seen Hannibal's monstrosity, but also his beauty. His unique way of perceiving the world, his intellect and his artistry and the depth of his emotions, which was what surprised me the most. While drinking his blood, I understood Hannibal, his actions and his feelings. I _became_ him. I knew that it was the same for him and felt understood like I had never before in my life, with no other vampire before. Despite the shock and the horror, I regretted that this experience was over- and that I was alone again.

“You are...the Chesapeake Ripper,” I whispered, wondering what to do. A few months ago, the answer would have been easy, I would have turned him in. But I wasn't with the FBI anymore and besides...I just couldn't report him, not after what had happened between us. Not after the intimacy and closeness we had just shared. And I also knew that, oddly, he had no intention to kill me anymore. Despite being a serial killer, he posed no danger to me.

Hannibal nodded, unperturbed by my remark. “I am. And I presume you are the vampire who worked with the FBI to help them convict his own kind. 'Will the Vampire Hunter' or, as some say, 'Will the Traitor.'”

***

I glared at him. “I'm not a traitor,” I hissed. “And I'm not a vampire hunter either. I just hunted criminals, killers who happened to be vampires. Vampires who give us a bad name. Vampires like you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal seemed amused. “Given what most humans think about us, our name is already bad enough and can't possibly be tainted any further, Will.”

“Of course someone like you would say that,” I replied angrily. “But the truth is that the average crime rate of vampires isn't higher than the general population's. The vast majority of us doesn't run around killing people, but sticks to voluntary donors and blood bought from pharmacies and hospitals. But just one killer vampire ruins everything for all of us, and the talks about incarcerating or even killing us start again. We have to be better than them. We have to prove them wrong. Don't you see, Hannibal? Don't you see that by killing them you make it worse for all of us?”

“To be honest, Will, I don't care about our kind's reputation,” Hannibal answered. “And I certainly don't care about humans, who may be amusing or entertaining but are in the end nothing more than just or livestock.”

I could hardly believe my ears. “You can't be serious. Most of us used to be human or have ancestors who were human before their Becoming. My mother was. Livestock- is that why you eat them? That's- gross. It's a desecration. We drink their blood because we have to, but we don't butcher them like pigs. We just don't.”

“And why is that, Will,” Hannibal asked. “Though it seems to be the most natural thing to do, as human organs are the only thing beside blood we can digest?”

“Because we just don't!” I almost screamed, angered by his smugness and arrogance. “Because we don't have to eat human organs to survive, because it's tasteless and disgusting and because it scares humans and makes them believe we are monsters.”

“And what if that's what we are, Will?” Hannibal questioned, giving me a piercing glance. “What if we are monsters?”

***

I knew that most of my colleagues at the FBI regarded me as a monster.

I could tell by the way they looked at me, both with fear and fascination, and suddenly stopped talking when I was approaching them.

Nothing I do will ever change that, I often thought. No matter how many killers I catch, I'll always be 'Will the vampire'. The monster.

The thing that creeped them out the most was the way I caught the killers, and I have to admit that it was gross. But it was also effective.

At least they had the decency to give me some privacy, to retreat and leave the room when I did it.

When I searched the room for blood.

Not the victim's blood, but the killer's. The vampire's. As surprising as it seems, a lot of them leave at least a drop of blood behind. When they are gripped by bloodlust, they notice hardly anything else anymore. Overcome by hunger and greed, all that matters to them is subduing their victim, whose resistance will mostly be to no avail. Vampires are much stronger than most humans. But many humans at least manage to scratch or bite their attacker when fighting back, and that's what helped me catch the killers.

Just one drop was enough, and if there was one, I always found it. Like all vampires, I'm drawn to my kind's blood. When I was at the crime scenes, it felt almost as if it was calling out to me. 

A small drop of blood the vampire had overlooked in their frenzy. And as soon as I found it, I did what I had to do.

I licked it off with my tongue. As I said, it's gross, but effective.

There was no use in keeping the blood to run a blood analysis, because vampire blood differs from human's. It doesn't contain the vampire's DNA. Obviously, because it's not actually the vampire's own blood, but their donor's. Or, in a killer's case, their victim's.

But even though it doesn't contain the vampire's DNA, the vampire blood still helped me catch them. Because after flowing through a vampire's veins, it embodies their thoughts and their feelings. Thoughts and feelings only our kind can sense when we taste another vampire's blood, like I could sense Hannibal's when I tasted his. As soon as the killer's blood was on my tongue, I could feel what they felt. It was a gruesome experience that affected me deeply- I often couldn't sleep because I was haunted by the killers and their crimes- but it was useful for the FBI. Nobody can catch vampires like another vampire can.

That's how I managed to catch the killer vampires Tobias Budge, Lawrence Wells, Clark Ingram and Garret Jacob Hobbs. The Chesapeake Ripper was the only one I couldn't catch, because he never left one single drop of his blood behind.

Garret Jacob Hobbs had been the last one I had caught. Finally, I had been able to find a tiny drop of blood at a crime scene and realized what it was all about. The vampire was killing human girls by drinking their blood so he wouldn't have to kill his human daughter by drinking hers.

When we finally found Garret Jacob Hobbs, it was almost too late. Hobbs' wife was dead, he had already drunk her blood and killed her, and when I was entering the kitchen, Hobbs had his fangs in his daughter's neck. She screamed, and I took the gun with the silver bullets (not as effective as a stake, but far easier to handle) and fired at Hobbs until he let go of his daughter. He collapsed on the floor, staring at me, saying: “See?”, before he finally turned to dust.

Abigail, Hobbs' daughter, was lying on the kitchen floor, bleeding out, dying, and I knew what I had to do. I really didn't want to, but I had no other option.

I bit into my wrist until I drew blood, and let the drops fall into Abigail's mouth.

I had to Change her. I had never intended to do this, I had never wanted to be a father, neither biological, nor by making a new vampire. But I couldn't watch her die, so I just did what I had to do.

***

“They said I made her a monster,” I whispered, clenching my fists angrily, my voice trembling with indignation. “Nobody thanked me for saving her life, all of my co-workers said she'd be better off dead. That's when I realized what they really thought about me, about all of us. And this- this tabloid journalist wrote that this was what I had always wanted and why I had started working for the FBI in the first place: To have the opportunity to make new vampires, under the pretense of saving murder victims. To recruit new members for our tribe, so we would finally outnumber the humans and make them our slaves and our food.” I shook my head. “The worst thing is that everybody seemed to believe her. It was crazy. I got hate mail and threatening phone calls, somebody punctured my car's tires, they threw stones at my windows. They just wouldn't leave me alone, and it got really scary. Eventually, I had to leave Baltimore and moved to a small, remote village. I even got a pack of dogs to protect me.”

“I'm very sorry to hear this, Will,” Hannibal said, and I scoffed, because naturally, Hannibal already knew all of this, had known it even before I let him See me. Everybody does, it was all over the news and the internet. “Will Graham the Vampire Hunter turns young, innocent girl into a monster.”

“And what about the head of the BAU, Jack Crawford? I hope at least he was on your side and supported you?”

I sighed. “You know very well that he didn't. He got really angry and said I had made her a monster, just like everybody else did, and gave me the sack. But the worst thing of all is not that I lost my job or that people threatened me. The worst thing is that they don't let me visit Abigail. But I have to,” I added desperately. “I have to because I am her father now. I was the one who Changed her, and I have to help her understand what she has Become. It is my responsibility, but they won't even let me visit her. They say she needs to rest, and seeing me would only upset her.”

Hannibal smiled at me encouragingly. “Don't worry about that, Will. As you know, I'm familiar with your case, and I understand that Alana Bloom is Abigail's psychologist. I know her, and we are on good terms. I'm sure I can convince her that it's adamant for Abigail to be taught our ways by her vampire father, according to our customs.”

“Really? Do you really think she will agree?” I was still doubtful.

Hannibal nodded. “I'm sure of it, Will.”

“Why do you want to help me, Hannibal?” I asked suspiciously. “And why did you want me to See you in the first place? Why did you take the risk? What do you want?”

Hannibal gave me a piercing glance and said in his soft accented voice: “As I said, I think you are a very interesting person, Will. I know this for a fact, after you allowed me the pleasure of Seeing you. You are more beautiful than I could ever have imagined, in every possible way. Just a vampire as unique as you would help humans convict other vampires, willing to hazard all the consequences. I suppose you still want to catch killers, even though you are not with the FBI anymore?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?” I asked sarcastically, hiding my embarrassment at his words, “Do you want to turn yourself in?”

Hannibal chuckled. “No, to be honest, this didn't occur to me. However, I could still help you catch killers, vampires who, as you phrased it, give us a bad name and humans who give humanity a bad one.”

I looked at him in confusion. “Why? Why would you of all people assist me to catch killers, Hannibal?”

Hannibal smiled. He took my hand, raised it to his mouth and ran his tongue over the wound at my wrist, which was still bleeding, licking off the blood.

Then he looked me in the eye and said tenderly: “To help you. To help you become what you already are in the eyes of the world, Will. A monster.”

***

Sometimes I wonder if it's true, if that is what I've become. A monster.

I'm not entirely sure. Maybe, or maybe I had been a monster all along, but just didn't want to see. Or maybe these are just human categories which don't apply to us. 

And sometimes I wonder why. Why didn't I turn him in? Why didn't I try to kill him but stayed with him instead?

Well, to be honest, I don't really have to wonder about that. The truth is that when I drank his blood, I knew. I knew why he had taken the risk to let me See him, and I knew why he wouldn't kill me.

He was in love. He had fallen in love with me at first sight.

And- I reciprocated his feelings. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't true, that we were both just confused. Being Seen by someone and Seeing them can be a very intense feeling, and sometimes you confuse it with love. But I knew this wasn't the case, not with Hannibal and me. This is the reason why I stayed with him.

Francis Dolarhyde, who wasn't a vampire, but a deranged human, was our first kill, and many more were to follow. When we became Abigail's legal guardians, we taught her everything she had to know. At first, she had a hard time accepting her new existence and her new fathers, me in particular. But she was a quick learner and adjusted eventually, embracing her life as our vampire daughter with more enthusiasm than I would have ever thought possible.

As you certainly know, the FBI finally became suspicious of us, and we had to run away together. 

You'll hear about us, once in a while, when we kill and display somebody again. People who deserve it, both humans and vampires.

I'm quite proud of myself because I made Hannibal see that humans are more than just our livestock.

Well- mostly. 

I've got some advice for you: If you happen to meet us someday, no matter if you are a human or a vampire, at the airport, on a train, in a restaurant or at the opera, wherever- be nice. I mean it, just be friendly and polite, and everything will be fine. Hannibal doesn't respond very well to rudeness, and neither does our daughter. I'm afraid she takes after Hannibal in that regard, although I'm the one who Changed her.

Don't ask me where we are right now, I won't tell you anyway.

All I wanted to tell you was how we met. Well, now you know. I guess Abigail was right. It's really not that embarrassing, is it?


End file.
